Fight Club
by Zora de Blaise
Summary: There is no need to ever bet on any other man when he is always the victor. Jacob X Reader-Insert


**A friend of mine dared me to write a Reader insert story without using the words 'I, me, Y/N,' etc, and this little one-shot became the result. I posted it on Tumblr, but I thought I would put it on this site as well.**

 **Enjoy.**

Fight Club

There is always a sense of ecstasy at the sight of the rustic factory. Once a place of economic progression, the coal-driven stoves haven't been fueled for working purposes in months; however, they still have their uses. As soon as a foot is in the door, the chill of the night is left to the darkness as the orange glow from within the arena becomes more noticeable. All around the poor excuse of a wooden fence are patrons of every class and racial background one could think of. They both cheer and boo as the two brawlers in the center of the pit have at one another with only victory on their minds.

The excitement in the air alone is enough to fill the blood with adrenaline.

As if on cue, a curious man approaches from the left before finally stopping and tipping his top hat. "Care to place a wager, m'lady?"

There is a brief glance at his filthy attire before returning to the crowd in search of one man in particular. "When the right fighter arrives, I will be sure to place one."

With that, the sea of patrons separate to allow for a better viewing of the arena. Many eyes meander this way, but they do not linger as the larger of the two brutes ends the match with a swift knee to the other's groin. There is a wave of gasps and sympathy 'oohs' amongst the crowd before the winner exits the pit and the loser is dragged by his arms by two thin fellows. The announcer, a chin-less man with big eyes and wide ears, takes a stand in the middle of the circular space and reveals the names of the next brawlers to fight. An unlady-like sigh escapes while the feeling of disappointment aches at the bones. Would _he_ even show tonight?

He seemed like a busy man. Always arriving for only one match before leaving in a hurried fashion. Perhaps it is not work that drives him away, but a woman waiting for his arrival home. That thought alone saddens the already damper mood. It seems unlikely though. He has a gleeful youth shine in his emerald eyes and a carefree skip in his step. He has the makings of a man far too unrestrained to be shackled by one woman.

"Oi, Dover, set me up for the next match," a husky voice calls from behind and instantly the corset restricts the ability to breathe properly.

He is here and nearby, but anxiety keeps from turning to stare at him. Just the mere sight of his dark, tousled hair, strong jaw scratchy with stubble, and pools of jade are enough to make a girl weak in the knees. However, it's when the top half of his clothes are gone that the body melts into a molten mess of want. His looks alone can get any woman to follow him home, but his voice, that rough and commanding tone, will guarantee a warm bed for the night and the next days that pass.

Just when he is believed to be gone to ready for his fight, there is a sudden presence from behind, but no time to react. "You are early today," a familiar voice states while circling to the right. "Waiting on someone?"

There is not a drop of courage left to turn towards him, so all that could be done was keep a steady concentration on the brawl that had just begun. "Well, I do pick my wins carefully. Have to make sure my usual victors are here tonight or else I risk losing profit."

A deep 'hmph' erupts from the back of his throat while the corner of his lips tug upward into a smug smirk. "From what I'm told, you only place bets on one man in particular."

Did the room just get hotter? "Like I said before: I pick my battles carefully."

Without much warning, the man's broad form blocks the view of the arena, so that only he can be seen. His smirk does not dare falter as his arms raise to cross over his chest. "And what if this fighter of yours that you tend to favor so much happens to lose? Hypothetically speaking."

There is a pregnant pause while pretending to ponder his words. "Well then, there would be no need for me to continue gambling, I suppose. If an undefeated champion becomes defeated, it ruins the business. I will have to busy my nights with other activities."

His features fall serious, but the pools of emerald still shine with mischief. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that...unless..." The smirk returns as he leans in close. "...you already have a certain _activity_ you would like to do."

With a wink, he saunters by, knowing he already won his first prize.


End file.
